I always choose the dungeon over the sea view
by Sauerbraten
Summary: Edward Nygma is the last rogue in Gotham to gain an audience with the Scarecrow and he's determined that it won't be his last. Jonathan Crane just wants the Scarecrow to stop murdering people when he's in control.


Edward Nygma had never despised The Penguin so much in his life. Usually when he, or any other of Oswald's associates for that matter, was picked up randomly, blackmailed in the back of his car and then dumped out in the middle of nowhere; it was done with a bit more consideration. Normally Edward would get dropped off a few blocks away from his not-so-secret hideout after a cryptic chat about some stupid heist that he was supposed to cut off the cameras for. If the weather was good then Edward was fine with the walk home. If the weather was not so good then the spherical tuxedo-wearer would save him a couple blocks of walking.

This time it was different. Edward had no idea where he was but he knew he wasn't near home. The weather had also decided to be ultra gloomy as the rain fell so sharply that Edward wondered if it would soon start cutting ribbons out of his face. Edward cursed himself for not wearing a warmer coat today. It wasn't his fault really since he couldn't have predicted being snatched from the street in the early night and pulled into the familiar black car.

Over the howling wind he could hear the sound of the screeching tyres from that same black car. Edward swore loudly.

"Stupid old crone", he growled, "where the fuck has he dumped me?"

Edward squinted at the horizon. The thick daggers of rain made it impossible to see anything clearly but Edward could spot the recognisable lights of the Gotham skyline in the far distance. Jeez, he really must have pissed Oswald off.

The inflated man had yelled at Edward about seducing yet another one of the waitresses at the Iceberg Lounge and Edward just couldn't see what was so wrong about it. Oswald's father-like protectiveness over his female workers was truly an enigma to Edward. Judging by Oswald's extreme reaction to Edward's latest fling it looked like the Iceberg was now off limits. Unless Edward wanted to end up anchored down to the bottom of the river, or what ever else Oswald might have planned for him.

Edward starts the long journey back to Gotham. Trudging down the cracked tarmac road, he once again cursed himself for not wearing his warm coat. Not only was he shivering like a freshly-shaved lamb but he left his phone in a coat other than the one he was wearing.

"Damn it"

As his feet drag along the road, he distracts himself from the cold with fantasies of how much he'd love to punch a concave hole into Oswald's skull. He could easy just take his beloved cane and ram it in the back of the man's head. Edward couldn't think of a more satisfying thought. Except for the thought of warmth. He looks up again at the skyline, estimating the time it would take to walk all the way back to the city and then to navigate his way home. Gotham looked nothing more than a small brush stroke on a canvas of the black night abyss, but on that same canvas a spot of light also appeared. It was much closer.

Rarely does Edward experience a breach in the floodgates of relief, and whenever he does, it comes as the single greatest emotion he could ever feel. He picked up his pace and fought against the wind to head towards the house that stood a small distance away from the road. He could think only of getting inside to feel something other than his numb nose. With each closer step he hoped that whoever lived in the secluded area also owned some sort of phone. He couldn't care less if the inhabitants recognised his face from the Arkham mugshots occasionally plastered across every form of local media. He just wanted to be warm again.

He could make out the windows of the house more clearly now. The most hideous lace curtains hung across the glass, making Edward believe that he might end up talking to some ancient grandma. That was fine with him. Warmth, a phone call and possibly some warm cocoa if he was lucky.

Making his way up the house's path, he debated in his head who he would phone to come and pick him up. Most of the usual goons would probably be drunk out of their minds at this time of night. Query would most definitely be fast asleep which meant she was not an option either. He had once made the mistake previously of waking her up during the night. The bruise he sustained was stubborn enough to remain for months.

Echo would be awake, sober and probably his best option.

He stood outside the paint-chipped door, his frozen fingers reaching out to press the doorbell. As the house inside chimed from the bell, Edward could feel anticipation build up inside him. He'd been walking in the downpour for, at the most, half an hour but the prospect of anything above the average temperature of an industrial freezer had him internally bouncing with joy.

A pair of footsteps grew nearer, and after some shuffling with locks the door opened.

It was a man. Scruffy brown hair, a lanky frame and old enough to be at least five years above Edward's own age. Edward couldn't place where he had seen the man from somewhere before.

"Edward Nygma?"

The recognition throws Edward off immensely. A shiver runs down his spine at hearing his name spoken by a voice that seemed borderline demonic. Surely such a scrawny body couldn't produce that voice.

"W-who, what... how do you know my name?", Edward stammers. His earlier eagerness has gone and now he's completely confused. And afraid. The man had eyes that seemed very unhinged.

"The Hatter told me", the man looks as confused as Edward feels, "I thought we were meant to meet next week at the Iceberg?"

Edward tried to think back to his last conversation with Jervis. So many of the things that left Jervis's mouth would just filter themselves straight out of his head. The short blond man rarely said anything of use to Edward, so when there was something actually important it would rarely be listened to. Then, he remembered. From some past tea party with the insane man, a passing comment about a new character in Hatter's imaginary world.

"Professor Johnathan Crane?", Edward said. The man hesitated for a second but then nodded and held his hand out to Edward. The sleeve of the man's threadbare jumper rode up to reveal half his forearm, it was far too small for the towering man.

"It's good to meet you", Edward shook his hand and took a mental note on how soft his skin was, "But I wasn't expecting visitors at this time of night"

"I wasn't expecting to be abandoned in the middle of nowhere at this time of night either"

Edward grimaced. He'd seek out Oswald like a homing missile the moment he got back in the city. The limping bastard would get a black eye that matches the shade of his stupid car.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at the shivering man.

"I suppose you require help then?", his eyes flashing dangerously at Edward. There seemed to be something manic about the man that grew the more he spoke.

"It would be greatly appreciated if you help this damsel in distress", Edward joked. He may be drenched to the bone but nothing would stop him from being his usual flamboyant self. Especially when making a first impression, and as an attempt to lighten the mood. Jonathan didn't seem to agree with this, as was shown when his face coiled into a disgusted grimace.

"You can come in to use the phone"

"Thank you so much, my knight in shi-" Edward began before Jonathan grabbed the lapel of his soaked suit and yanked Edward into the house. Edward yelped as he was dragged into the front hallway and thrust in front of a phone on the wall. Jonathan's frame struck a distorted shadow across the splintered wooden flooring. For a second his face showed distress. Like he was trapped inside himself. For a second his voice seemed less demonic and more afraid than Edward felt.

"But you'll be leaving immediately, for your own good"

"It's freezing outside!", Edward objected.

"Please"

Jonathan stood in the doorway while Edward rang up Echo. The shorter man kept darting his eyes over to Jonathan, who kept his own gaze firmly at the ground before his feet. One of his toes poked out from his black woollen sock. During the call, Edward noticed that Jonathan kept digging his fingernails into his palms almost hard enough to draw blood. It was as if he was trying to keep himself from falling asleep as his lashes kept fluttering closed.

The moment the phone was placed back on the wall, Edward felt bony fingers grasp his arm before he was thrown back outside into the rain. The door slammed shut and Edward huffed indignantly.

"How rude", he shoved his hands into his pockets and took a step down onto the path that lead back to the road where Echo would pick him up.

A loud crash came from inside the house behind him, making him jump out of his skin. He glanced back but there was no sign from the outside that anything would hurt him. Edward picked up his pace down the path, thinking it would be best to leave Professor Crane to whatever it was he that he was doing.

Reaching the side of the road once more, he looked expectantly into the distance and waited. While the stars above him become cloudy within the polluted night sky, he filled his time with attempts to de-mystify his own mind and figure out in what context he had heard the name Jonathan Crane before.


End file.
